by Gena; Butcher Showalter; Gena; Butcher Showalter; Gena; Butcher Showalter; Gena; Butcher Showalter
The shapes rose up, solidifying into the form of those things that had attacked her earlier tonight. Neal charged them. The first sgath leaped into the air, lunging for Neal's throat. Instead, it was his blade that hit, and the monster flew past him in two spinning pieces.
Two more of the sgath attacked, and Neal cut down each one with the same competent efficiency. Never once did he do anything showy. Every movement was smooth and easy, with no wasted effort. The lethality of his grace stunned Viviana even after she'd seen it before.
Neal wiped his blade clean on the dead grass, remounted his horse, and rode away.
Below in the valley, the door to the cabin opened. An old, bent woman stood there for a moment, staring in confusion into the darkness. She never saw Neal or the threat he'd eliminated.
Viviana's vision wavered again, as another battle was shown to her. Then another, and another.
In each one, she saw signs of different eras, different times and places—none of which Neal was old enough to have lived in, and yet there he was. He fought off dark, terrifying monsters for people who didn't even realize he existed. He never once asked for thanks or praise for his deeds; he simply left when the job was done.
When the interior of the truck finally came back into focus, Viviana was exhausted. She felt like she'd been gone for years and was just now coming back home.
Neal was staring at her with the oddest look on his face. It was part sympathy and part pride, and she wondered if he was upset by what she'd seen.
"What was that?" she asked.
"The luceria shows us pieces of each other—things it thinks we need to know to help us grow closer and speed up the bonding process."
"What bonding process? You never said anything about that."
"It's how we connect. It's how you reach my power. The luceria makes that connection possible, but the amount of power that can flow between us is directly related to how much we trust each other."
"And those visions of you fighting monsters were supposed to make me trust you?"
"Did it work?"
In an odd way, it did, but no more so than seeing him fight for her life earlier tonight. It was something else that pulled her in—the part where he seemed to have visited other times. "I thought I saw you a long, long time ago."
"You did."
"How? Does your magic allow you to travel through time?"
"No. I've lived a long time." He smiled, and it made her insides quiver in response. "Just like those artifacts you like to collect."
"How long?"
"I've lost count. Four hundred fifty-something years now, I guess."
"You guess?"
He shrugged, drawing her attention to his bare shoulder. Even that small movement caused delicious muscles to ripple beneath his skin. "It stops mattering after a while, though I may start counting again if things with us go the way I hope."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you don't have to be alone anymore. You don't have to feel like you don't fit in. You're one of us now."
Viviana's insides iced over with worry. "What did you see?"
"You. Alone. All your life. You've always set yourself apart from other people because you knew you weren't like them."
Humiliation stiffened her spine. "You had no right prying into my past like that."
"Sorry, sweetheart. That's the way it works. You got to do the same with me."
"I don't like it."
He took her hand and flattened it against his bare chest. His skin was hot and tight over hard muscles. Streaming sparks flowed into her, making her dizzy.
"You like that," he said with complete confidence. "And I like not hurting anymore. Thank you."
"Don't get used to it. If this luceria lets you pry into my private life, it's coming off."
"Not until we find the gadget. You promised. Besides, by then I hope to change your mind."
"About what?"
"Taking it off." He leaned forward, a hot smile on his lips. "If I have my way, you'll never take it off again."
Shock rattled through her and she sat silent for a moment, trying to make sense of his words. "I don't understand."
"I know. That's my fault, but I'll spell it out for you. You saved my life by putting on my luceria.
Before I met you, I was dying. The power inside me was killing me slowly. And now I'm fine. I've also seen inside you. I've seen how gentle and caring you are, how driven you can be. You are everything I've ever hoped for in a partner, and if I get half a chance, I'm not going to let you go. Ever."
"You need to stop right there. I don't even know you and you're talking about us being together?"
"In ways you have probably never imagined."
Her face heated, as did the rest of her. "I only said I'd help you find the artifact."
"I know. I'm counting on my powers of persuasion to change your mind."
She opened her mouth to ask him what kind of powers when a wave of something hot and delicious slid into her skin, emanating from the luceria. It floated down her body, making her grow languid and needy as it passed.
Neal speared his fingers through her hair and lowered his mouth to hers. He didn't touch her, but he was close enough that she could feel energy sparking between them.
"I'm playing dirty," he told her, "but I need you too much to let it stop me. We're meant to be together. The luceria knows it. I know it. So will you."
He kissed her then, and she didn't even think to try to stop him. His mouth felt too good on hers.
Too right. Her whole body quivered in excitement at his touch, and wherever his bare skin touched hers, heady streams of power raced into her, making her feel more whole and alive than she ever had before.
In this moment, she was swept away, ready and eager to go along with whatever insane plan he had. Let him think they were destined to be together. What did she care? As long as he kept had. Let him think they were destined to be together. What did she care? As long as he kept kissing her, he could be as crazy as he liked.
A deep howl cut through the cold December air.
Neal stiffened and pulled back with a caustic curse. "Fuck. My blood. They can smellit."
He moved to his side of the truck, leaving Viviana feeling cold and alone. She didn't like it. She wanted back that feeling he gave her—that sense of belonging, of being needed. It took every ounce of her will power to stay put rather than slide over the seat so she could cling to him.
She was not a needy woman. She did not cling.
He slammed the truck in gear and pulled back out onto the snowy road. "I'm sorry, sweetheart.
You're so damn sexy, you go to my head. I should have known better than to stay put after cutting myself."
Viviana cleared her throat and fastened her seat belt to give her head time to clear. "I'm not sexy. I never have been. I'm tidy. Neat."
He shot her a grin full of heated promise. "You won't be when I get done with you."
"I am not going to have sex with you."
"No?" He didn't sound convinced. Or concerned.
"No. I don't know you."
"You will. Count on it."
Chapter Six
Neal told himself to back down. He was coming on way too strong. The connection the luceria had forged between them had already grown enough for him to sense Viviana's anxiety.
"You're quite full of yourself, aren't you?" she asked.
He bit his tongue to hold back a comment about how he'd rather she be the one full of him. That was way too crass for his sweet Viviana.
His.
Neal was already in trouble, already feeling way too possessive. She wasn't ready for that. Hell, for all he knew she never would be. He needed to calm the hell down before he screwed up his one chance to keep breathing.
"I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry." He guessed he was going to have to get used to saying those last two words a lot—assuming she stuck with him long enough to let it happen.
"Where are we going?"
"A safe house. I need to clean up." He looked down at his chest. The wound had already healed, but the blood was still there, drawing every Synestryn for miles, no doubt.
"You said they can smellyour blood."
"Yep. I need to wash it off ASAP."
There was a nervous lilt to her voice. "What about my blood? Can they smell that, too?"
"Absolutely."
"I cut myself earlier tonight. On the glass. That's why they came, isn't it?"
The thought of her being hurt made his stomach twist in a combination of anger and pain. "Let me see."
She ripped off a small bandage and held up her hand. A short, shallow cut crossed her palm—little more than a paper cut.
"Did it bleed?"
"A little."
"Toss the bandage out the window."
She did, letting in a cold gust of wind. Without his shirt on, he felt every degree in the drop of temperature.
"Will that work?" she asked.
"Not with me in the car, but I don't want you walking around with blood on you."
The next thing he knew, she was kneeling on the seat beside him, using one of those white cotton gloves to wipe away the blood on his chest.
"You're already healed."
"I heal fast. It's necessary for the job."
She made quick work of cleaning him up, her movements efficient and matter-of-fact. "Job?"
"Killing Synestryn. Protecting humans."
She brought the glove to her mouth and wet a spot to scrub away the dried blood. Then, as if she realized what she'd done, she stammered, "I-I'm sorry. I should never have put my saliva on you without permission."
Neal stifled a laugh. She was so prim and proper. "Honey, the way we kissed, I'd say it's a bit late to worry about that. Hell, I've fantasized about things involving your mouth that would make you blush."
And just like that, she did, and quickly changed the subject. "You called those things that attacked tonight sgath."
"Sgath are one type of Synestryn. There are lots. All butt-ugly. All deadly."
She finished the job, went back to her side of the truck, and the cotton glove went out the window. "And you fight them."
"Nearly every night."
"What would I do? I mean, someone who planned to continue her association with you?"
That made Neal grin. "Association? Sounds like our names should be on a business card together. You think that's what we have going here?"
"I don't know what to call it, and you shouldn't make fun. I've been through quite a bit of stress tonight."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. You sure have. I should be more understanding."
Silence greeted him and he left her alone. She did have a lot to digest. It was barely past midnight. He'd met her eight hours ago and in that time, she'd been attacked, lost a friend, and joined herself to Neal in a way she couldn't possibly understand.
But he did. He knew what her commitment meant to him and what it would mean if she decided to walk away. still, even the fear of dying couldn't stop him from celebrating what he had now.
He was fulfilling his purpose in life. He was united with a woman who could wield his power—one he was sworn to protect so she could blow away the demons that plagued Earth. Together they would be unstoppable. And not just on the battlefield.
The brief glimpse he'd had of her life still haunted him. Even though her adoptive mother had loved and cherished Viviana, she'd still felt alone. It was as if she knew she was part of something bigger than herself. She'd tried to fit in as a child, and as an adult, she'd found people who accepted her for her quirks. But it had never been enough.
Neal didn't just accept her; he reveled in her. Everything about her was fascinating—from the prim bun she wore down to those naughty stockings under her skirt. Her love for ancient Sentinel artifacts only added to her appeal.
He wanted to be part of her collection. A permanent part.
As much as he hated feeling needy and demanding, there was nothing he could do to stop himself. Without her, he would die. No matter what it took, he was going to spend what little time they had before they found the gadget convincing her that he was the kind of man worth keeping.
She was quiet as they drove. Every few minutes, he could feel a subtle tug on his power, as if she were testing the waters. Knowing that if he said anything, it would only discourage her, he kept quiet, pretending he didn't know what she was doing.
Slowly, her attempts became bolder. More power flowed between them, easing the crushing pressure inside Neal. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so good.
Despite how much he needed her, despite how much he wanted her, the need to protect her tender feelings rose above all else. He promised himself he wouldn't push her for more. At least, not yet. Let her discover her newfound power on her own so she wouldn't balk at accepting it.
Two hours later, Neal was regretting his decision to let her find her own way. He kept getting glimpses of her—little fleeting images of things she felt and wanted.
He was at the top of the list. As proper as his Viviana seemed, she was all hot, passionate woman beneath that prim exterior. She kept having fantasies of her hands on his bare skin, stroking his lifemark. Every few minutes she'd glance his way and get caught up staring.
Apparently, she liked the way he looked, which worked for him. He'd never really paid much attention to the texture of his skin or the play of shadow over his muscles, but she did. And seeing that through her eyes—the way it turned her on—was making it hard for him to keep his hands on the wheel.
All he could think about was how good it felt to slide his hands up her thighs until the smooth skin above those stockings greeted him.
By the time they pulled into the driveway of the Gerai house, Neal was shaking with lust. He was careful to keep it from her—block her from sensing his thoughts—though he knew that worked against his need to bind them together. She wasn't ready for his desire yet. She was still dealing with too much. It would be unfair of him to ask her for more when she'd already given him more than he'd ever hoped to have.
Neal pulled his shirt back on before braving the cold. He found a key tucked behind the porch light and let them into the small farmhouse.
The air inside was chilly, but all the makings for a fire were laid and ready to go. Neal made quick work of getting a nice blaze going before raiding the fridge for food.
"Is this your house?" Viviana asked when he returned with some sandwich fixings.
She was curled up on a corner of the couch nearest the fire. She still wore his leather jacket, which made her look small and vulnerable.
Protective instincts rose up in Neal, and he had to fight the urge to reach for his sword and bare his teeth against an invisible threat.
"No. It's called a Gerai house, named for the group of humans who keep it stocked with food and supplies."
"Gerai?"
"They're blooded humans—humans who have ancient blood running through their veins.
Synestryn will attack them for their blood, so we protect them. In exchange, they help out where they can, like giving us a safe place to rest when we need it."
"So the Synestryn can't get to us here?"
"Oh, no. They can get to us, but it's harder to find us here than in other places, since Gilda has woven some magic that helps shield us here."
"Gilda? Who's she?"
"A powerful Theronai. She and her husband, Angus, have been together for centuries. She's the one who told me about the gadget. She has amazing power."
"And she uses it to protect these Gerai houses?"
"Among other things. But yes, I can sense her touch on this place. Unless we do something to attract attention, we should be safe here."
"That sounds nice."
Neal heard fear wavering in her voice. "I don't want you to be afraid, sweetheart. You're safe with me. I'd give my life to make sure of it."
"I'd rather you didn't. I don't want anyone else to die b
ecause of me."
He set the food on the coffee table and sat next to her, taking her hand in his. Her skin was smooth and flawless, unlike his own scarred hands. Her bones were delicate, her limbs breakable. He had no idea how he was going to keep her safe long enough for her to learn to wield his power, but he knew he'd do whatever it took to make that happen.
Neal made sure she was looking in his eyes. He couldn't stand knowing she was being eaten up by guilt. "The professor didn't die because of you. You have to believe that."
"Would those things have come for him if I hadn't given him the artifact?"
"How many people have you allowed to study your collection?"
"Several."
"Were they attacked?"
"No."
"Then there was no way for you to know what would happen. You can't blame yourself for the evil of another. All you can do is use the power you now have to stop them from doing it again."
"Is that what you do?"
He shook his head. "I can't do a lot with magic. I can use a little bit, but nothing compared to you.
The best I can do is cut them down."
"You're good at that."
"Nice of you to notice."
She was silent for a long moment. "What's it like living in your world?"
"Normal. It's all I've ever known."
"Killing monsters and fighting demons is normal? I don't think I could ever get used to that."
"There's more to being a Theronai than killing. We have a home where we take care of humans—orphaned children, mostly. We're helping rebuild a stronghold in Africa that was destroyed. And we stand guard over the Gate."
"Gate?"
"To Athanasia, the place where our magic originated. Chances are good your father was from there."
"Where is it?"
Neal shrugged. "Another planet, I guess. I never really worried much about the details. I fought when I needed to, protected when I needed to, and in the meantime, I spent every second looking for you."
She scoffed at that. "That's hard to believe."
"It's true. I mean, I didn't know your name, but I hoped you were out there. And here you are. My own personal miracle."
"You make it sound so easy—like you already know how things will end."